


Healed with a Kiss

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder and Skinner find that love can heal old wounds.





	Healed with a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Healed with a Kiss by Griffin Grimes

Healed with a Kiss by Griffin Grimes  
<>

OVERALL RATING: NC-17  
CLASSIFICATION: SR (Sk/M slash) and, like life, some angst, some humor.  
DISTRIBUTION: XSlash, MSSS and Gossamer archives: yes ATXC: no elsewhere: only with my permission  
SPOILERS: "Avatar" and "Herrenvolk" (US3 and US4).  
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended.  
SUMMARY: Mulder and Skinner find that love can heal old wounds.  
**WARNING: this is a slash story including detailed descriptions of male/male consensual sex. If you are under the age of 18, or if you don't enjoy this type of story, please go no further.**  
To anyone looking for lots of graphic sex scenes: this turned out more romantic-erotic than graphic-erotic, but I like it that way. Just letting you know.  
This is my first fanfic with a rating greater than PG-13, so constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.  
Thanks to my revolving supply of Beta readers/editors, who took turns holding my hand through this virgin experience with slash: Shalimar, A.D. (my future drug pusher), M.M. (my porn supplier), and D.P. (my two-night stand), as well as individuals from the XSlash and XFF lists (J.H., Eliz, J.McW., and others) who supported me on this. You were all incredible! Was it good for you, too?

* * *

                X X X X X X X

Chapter 1

George Washington University Hospital  
Washington, D.C.  
April 26, 1996

The man hurried to the nurses' station; the doctor assigned to his wife's case was waiting there for him.

"Doctor, what is this about? Has her condition worsened?" he asked in a low, tensely-controlled voice. The doctor led him into a nearby empty waiting room, closing the door behind them.

This was not a good sign, the man knew.

They sat down, the doctor preparing to perform the most difficult task in his profession. He knew that the man would want nothing but the direct, honest truth. Still, the doctor would do what he could to lessen the blow. In the weeks he had known him, he had come to respect the man a great deal.

"Mr. Skinner, I'm sorry, but your wife had a sudden massive cerebral hemorrhage. She passed away peacefully less than an hour ago."

A long moment of silence passed between them. The doctor got up to leave. "I'll be available if you need me for anything," he said sincerely, closing the door softly behind him to give the husband privacy.

Skinner's gaze fixed on the blank white surface of the closed door. He thought hatefully of the bastards who had run her off the road, the ones who had never been caught for what they had done. Then he lowered his face into his hands, silently weeping for the end of a marriage of 17 years. And for the end of a life.

                  X X X X X X X

Hoover Building  
Office of Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner  
Friday, September 20, 1996

It had been five months since Sharon Skinner had died,� but Dana Scully could tell that her boss was still deeply disturbed by the loss of his estranged wife. Five months was not an unusually long time to grieve, Scully knew. Sometimes you never got completely over the death of someone important in your life. The regrets you have over what you did or did not do while they were alive can stick with you forever.

Scully became particularly aware of a change in Skinner the last time she and Mulder had been called in to go over their latest case reports. Normally stern and businesslike, he had surprised them both when he hadn't called them on the carpet for the way they handled the situation, which was up to par with their typically non-traditional investigative approach. However, what Mulder had done was more serious than usual.

"When you left with Mr. Smith to go see your mother in the hospital, you left Scully at the site with the wounded assassin?" Skinner asked to confirm what he had read in Mulder's report of the incident.

"Yes, Sir," Mulder replied, looking regretfully at his boss, then at Scully. "I thought he was dead, and Smith was leaving without me. It was very important that I got to the hospital as soon as I could."

"Sir, as you know, Mulder's mother was in a coma, and in critical condition," Scully cut in, defending her partner's hasty decision to leave her behind. "Mulder believed very strongly that Mr. Smith was the only one who could --"

It was Skinner's turn to cut in. "Thank you, Agent Scully; I'm sure Agent Mulder will think twice the next time he stabs an assailant in the neck and doesn't bother to check if he's actually dead. Agent Mulder," Skinner said, glancing up from the report to address the younger man. "In the future, don't forget that Agent Scully *is* your partner. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir, I won't," Mulder answered sheepishly. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if the alien bounty hunter had killed her because of him.

"That will be all," Skinner curtly announced, going back to the other work that was on his desk. The agents paused in disbelief before they turned to leave their supervisor's office.

"That's it?" Mulder exclaimed as soon as the door was shut. He glanced over at the A.D.'s assistant seated behind her desk and lowered his voice, taking Scully's arm and hurrying her down the hall. "What, no royal reaming for leaving you there like that? Scully, you could have been killed because of me."

Scully smiled at her partner and raised a brow knowingly. "Why, Mulder, you sound disappointed. Is a 'royal reaming' from Skinner what you really want?"

Mulder didn't want to try answering that one.

Scully pushed the button to go down to the basement. She looked over at her partner, hoping to make light of the situation and divert him from his self-imposed guilt trip. Mulder deserved Skinner's ire for all the other times he had gone off and left her behind, but she understood his haste in wanting to save his mother.

Mulder hesitated before responding to her question. Not an easy task to catch Mulder off guard, Scully thought as they stepped inside the elevator.

"Well, I would have expected him to at least yell at me a *little*," Mulder explained, finally putting on a playful grin to match Scully's. "I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't some truth to _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_...and it's started right there in Skinner's office."

"Mulder, you watch *way* too much television."

The elevator door closed silently in front of them. As the elevator began to descend, Scully thought again of how to broach the subject she had been contemplating.

"I get the feeling something's going on with Skinner, and it has nothing to do with an alien takeover," Scully began.

Mulder glanced down at his partner, not sure what perfectly reasonable rationale she could have come up with to explain Skinner's distracted state. He liked the "alien pod person" idea quite well. Maybe he *did* watch too much of the SciFi Channel. But, Hell, he thought, there's a lot of good stuff on there.

"Think about it, Mulder," Scully continued. "Skinner hasn't been the same ever since Sharon died. He's always been a little aloof, but never like this. He doesn't even notice us when we pass him in the halls. And his behavior today at what should have been your 'reaming' -- he never would have let that kind of thing get by so easily. Not from either of us."

"And you think this is all because of his wife?" Mulder asked as the elevator door opened to the basement. They headed back to their office. "Scully, they hadn't been close for eight months; Sharon told us that herself. We didn't even know he *had* a wife. They had been living apart for months, and the divorce papers had been ready to sign just before the 'accident'."

Mulder stopped suddenly outside their office door and leaned a shoulder against the wall. It suddenly dawned on him. "Do you think Skinner is feeling guilty about that? About the attempt to frame him being related to Sharon's death? It wasn't his fault..."

"Easy for us to say, Mulder, but harder to accept when you're the one whose wife died. I think one of us needs to talk to him about this; after all he's done for us, for the X-files, we owe it to him to try to help him through this."

"So, what are you going to say to him?" Mulder asked.

"Me? Mulder, why do you assume I'm the one to talk to him about this? You're the psychologist. *You're* going to do the talking," she stressed, poking him on his chest with a finger to let him know she meant business. "One guy to another. Besides, I don't think it would be a good idea for me to approach him with this; he might think I was coming on to him...trying to get him on the rebound."

"Scully! I never thought you had the hots for Skinner!" Mulder exclaimed teasingly.

Scully cast him The Look.

Mulder parried with his Lost Puppy face, and threw in The Whine. "Come on, Scully, I'm not good at this 'heart to heart' crap. I'm not even sure if Skinner *likes* me; it's not like we've ever socialized together. Half the time, he looks like he wants to zap me with a stare and reduce me to a pile of ashes. Now you want me to play 'buddy' with him and talk to him about his feelings? Scully, I can't even do that with guys I *am* friends with."

"I thought *I* was your only friend, Mulder," Scully retorted with a smile, resolved not to give in on this. "It'll be good practice for you. Who knows, you might decide to leave the F.B.I. to become a radio talk show psychologist. You have the degree for it. Now you just need the personality."

"Well, my mother always said I should have something to fall back on," Mulder responded, continuing the joke. He was resigned to the fact that Scully was not going to let him squirm out of this.

He finally opened the office door, now that his sentence as Skinner's new confidant had been carved in stone by Saint Scully herself.

No, she was right, he thought; he was the one who should talk to Skinner.

"Do you think I have the voice for radio?" Mulder asked. He lowered his voice in his smoothest Frasier Crane imitation. "Good evening, listeners; I'm doctor Fox Mulder, and I'm here to talk to *you*."

Mulder grinned down at Scully, who shook her head and smiled.

"I know," Mulder answered for her, nodding. " 'Don't quit your day job.' "

                      X X X X X X X

That night  
Mulder's apartment

Well, Scully had done it, Mulder thought as he toweled himself off from a rare evening shower. Cornered him into playing the pal with Skinner to find out what was bothering him so much and, somehow, do something to help him through it.

"And here you are, Mulder, making yourself Zest-fully clean like you're going out on some kind of date," he said to his hazy reflection in the fogged-up mirror.

<Date. Hah. You haven't been on a date since...shit, you can't really call what happened with Kristen Kilar a 'date',> he mused, quickly sinking into melancholy at the memory.

Then he remembered how this meeting had been arranged.

Mulder had called Skinner's office after Scully had doggedly insisted that he talk to the A.D. *now*, not later that weekend or Monday morning.

Under Scully's watchful glare, Mulder was patched through to Skinner and awkwardly invited him to go out for a couple of drinks after work. "I thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other a little outside of the office," Mulder had offered as his reason for the invitation. He had immediately wished he had practiced some other excuse.

Apparently, Skinner had planned to run some errands right after work. For a moment Mulder thought he was off the hook for at least one night. Then Skinner surprised him, destroying his hope for a 72-hour reprieve.

"Come over to my place at nine," Skinner had said gruffly. "I'll be able to talk to you then. There's something I've been wanting to talk with you about privately, as well."

Getting ready to leave, Mulder wished he had never been to Skinner's apartment before, so he could pretend to have gotten lost on the way over and postpone their little chat.

Continuing to rub the towel over his head and chest, Mulder strode from the bathroom to the bedroom -- which was really more of a storage room, since he never actually slept there. But it did have a big closet, so he also used it as a dressing room. A dressing room with a lot of junk strewn around. Dirty clothes overflowing the laundry basket in one corner, a basketball and gym bag in another, a rowing machine peeking out from under the bed, that damned big Hefty bag full of cans he kept meaning to take for recycling, piles of books and papers all over the bed and floor. No neater than his office at work, he considered, but a lot smellier. A *lot* smellier. And those pine-scented air fresheners worked great for cars, but didn't quite do the job on a bachelor's apartment. Not *this* bachelor's, at least.

He chose his favorite gray T-shirt and his best jeans from the closet and made sure to get a new pair of red satin boxers and white socks that didn't have holes in them out of the top dresser drawers. Mulder wondered why he was worrying about what his underwear looked like, since he was only going to Skinner's house for a couple of hours.

For some reason, the fact that Skinner had suggested he come over rather than going to a bar to talk made Mulder even more uneasy than he had been when Scully first cornered him into this. "Scully, I'm going to kill you if Skinner starts crying on my shoulder," he muttered threateningly at his new white Reebok half-tops as he laced them up.

However, the image of Skinner nuzzling at his neck suddenly did not seem so unpleasant to Mulder, after all. He set the thought aside, as was his habit in such moments.

Fifteen minutes later he had donned his black leather jacket, stepped out the door, and was on his way to Skinner's apartment -- and to who knew what.

                X X X X X X X

Chapter 2

Friday, September 20, 1996  
Crystal City, VA  
8:53 p.m.

Mulder drove slowly to Skinner's apartment building, vaguely wishing there would be a sudden blizzard to make the streets impassable, or at least a traffic hazard to delay having to face Skinner on his home turf. After all, it was September; little chance of a blizzard. But then again, in all his experiences working with the X-files, stranger things had happened. A vision of frogs falling from the sky briefly flashed through his mind.

He had thought that meeting Skinner at a bar to talk about the A.D.'s behavior of late would be uncomfortable enough, but the prospect of going to his apartment, as Skinner had suggested, made him want to flee in terror. "C'mon, Mulder, you've faced mutants and serial killers before; why are you afraid of your boss?"

Something about Skinner had always made Mulder uneasy. He was a hard-assed ex-Marine, the type who did everything by the book. As he had been trained to do, he would follow orders, questioning them only when faced with something morally or logically flawed. "My Country, Do or Die" -- the complete antithesis of Mulder's irreverent rebelliousness. That clash of personalities was probably a large factor in what spurred their continual clashes professionally.

Still, after being under Skinner's supervision for the last four years, with Skinner being exposed to the various government conspiracies that the X-files division had uncovered, Mulder sensed that his boss was beginning to appreciate the value of a rebellious nature -- at least in his most troublesome agent.

Through those four years, Mulder had grown to respect the A.D., and actually had opened up enough to trust him. Not complete trust, not like he trusted Scully, but much more than he had when Skinner had first replaced Blevins as his direct supervisor. Despite his motto of "Trust no one", Mulder longed to be able to trust another human being as much as he trusted his partner.

Skinner was the only man besides his father to whom he had ever felt close. Mulder had a strained yet oddly symbiotic relationship with Skinner, much like the one Mulder had had with his father. Strained. A perfect descriptor for the love he and Bill Mulder had shared while the elder man had been alive.

A similar atmosphere existed between he and Skinner. Despite his father's emotional distance, Mulder loved him deeply and, even as an adult, had continued to crave his approval. Mulder was still haunted by the fact that his father had been murdered on the only night Bill Mulder had ever shown his son any real respect and admiration for who he was.

Then Mulder remembered the sudden pride he had felt when Sharon Skinner had given him a clue about her husband's opinion of him. She had said that Mulder was one of the few people from work Skinner ever mentioned -- and that she could tell by the way he talked about Mulder that Skinner admired him. That almost made up for the years of disapproval he had felt from his father.

Of course, Mulder thought, there were many differences between the two older men. Both were difficult to read emotionally, but Mulder had learned that his father's hardness masked a fundamental weakness of character. In contrast, Skinner's inner strength shone through his tough exterior.

He arrived at the building without realizing it at first, a light chill running through him as he pulled in front of the ultra-modern high-rise Skinner had moved into during the breakup with his wife. Mulder thought of what he would say to Skinner as he rode the elevator up to Skinner's floor. By the time he stood in front of the apartment door, he had decided to leave any plans behind and just see what developed.

Skinner opened the door a moment after Mulder knocked. "Mulder. Come in," he invited, stepping to one side.

Skinner's manner was as businesslike and aloof as it was when he was behind his desk at the Hoover Building, but his appearance was very un-Skinnerlike. Mulder almost gasped at the image he saw as the door opened: his boss in a gray, long-sleeved, soft cotton Henley shirt, the top two buttons undone. His snug faded jeans were getting a bit frayed at the bottoms.

But after Mulder's gaze settled on the frayed cuffs of the pants, he had to keep his jaw from dropping at a bigger shock -- Skinner was barefoot. Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner, wielder of the lethal glare, one of the most fearsome men in the Department of Justice, a man who could leave gun-toting F.B.I. agents quaking in their shoes over a less-than-perfect expense report, actually had toes. And cute ones, at that, Mulder thought, surprising himself this time.

Skinner closed the door behind Mulder and led him into the spacious, sparsely-furnished living room.

"Sit down and I'll get you a beer," his boss said casually, indicating the long, white, sectional leather couch that dominated the room. The bottle of imported beer Skinner carried with him to the large adjacent kitchen was half empty, and Mulder recognized it as his favorite brand -- but too expensive for Mulder to indulge in very often on his conservative salary. After all, he had to leave enough for his Armani suits.

Mulder commented on it as Skinner returned and handed him a fresh bottle, more to break the ice than to inspire a deep conversation. "My favorite," Mulder said, raising the bottle in salute from his slumped position on the couch. "You have good taste in beer."

"What did you think I drank -- Old Milwaukee?" Skinner retorted with an uncharacteristic grin, his eyes sparkling.

The smile and glinting eyes amazed Mulder more than the toes had. Skinner possessed toes, a sense of humor, and teeth. Incredible, Mulder thought. This night might be full of revelations.

Skinner walked across the room to the large stereo, turning on the radio component. It was set at a low volume to an oldies' station. A classic '60s song by Donovan was playing.

      "Yes, it's gonna be a long, lonely summer,  
      but I'll fill the emptiness;  
      I'll send you all my dreams,  
      every day in a letter  
      sealed with a kiss...."

The song matched Skinner perfectly, Mulder thought. It somehow seemed right that Skinner would secretly favor old, romantic songs from more innocent days. From days before his tour in Vietnam.

Skinner plopped down casually next to Mulder on the couch. Closer than Skinner had ever been to Mulder --except for the incident in the hallway.

Mulder couldn't forget that, even if he tried. Mulder may have been under the influence of an LSD-like hallucinogen, but his eidetic memory could still clearly replay the time he attacked Skinner for no apparent reason. Mulder had been amazed by the swiftness and facility with which Skinner had put him in a choke hold and held him there, the strength in his arms, could even still remember the musky scent that was Skinner.

However, Skinner's massive desk usually acted as a barrier between the agent and his supervisor. Despite his earlier apprehensiveness about coming here, Mulder found he liked this new casualness, and began to relax as he took another swig of beer.

"So, Mulder, what inspired you ask to see me after hours?" he asked. "I assume it's something you couldn't talk to me about at the office. Does it have something to do with Scully?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. Like I said, I've been under your supervision for almost four years now, and I thought it was about time..."

Skinner stopped him short with a raised palm. "I don't buy that 'getting to know you' crap you gave me on the phone. You're not the type."

Mulder should have known there was no pussy-footing allowed around Skinner. He decided to get to the point.

"Well, actually, Sir, it is more than that," he admitted, not sure of how to begin but deciding to dive right in. "Scully has been concerned that you've seemed...distracted lately. We just thought that maybe you...that you were having a hard time dealing with the death of your wife. Possibly because...because of your breakup with her just before she died."

Skinner looked thoughtfully at Mulder. He appreciated the concern from his best pair of agents, but he was never comfortable with long, drawn-out displays of sympathy. He did, however, know that he needed to learn to open up to people more; that had been part of the problem with Sharon.

"Thank you, Mulder, for coming to see me about this. And thank Agent Scully as well. But neither of you need to worry. I admit I haven't been myself since Sharon died, but I'll be able to handle it on my own."

Mulder suddenly felt a great sympathy for the man next to him. Coming here was no longer something he felt pressured into doing; Skinner needed someone to talk to. After all the times Skinner had aided him and shown concern for his welfare -- in Skinner's own way -- Mulder realized that he wanted to be there for Skinner, as well, now that he needed help.

He leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and looking intently at his hands clasped in front of him. He didn't know what more he should say. Skinner said he was fine, but he knew Skinner wasn't fine. Mulder had played enough of that game himself with Scully to be able to recognize it in others.

"Sir, I hope you will let me help you get through this," Mulder said quietly as he turned his head sideways to look over at the older man. The vague feelings of fondness and respect he had felt for Skinner before were amplified here tonight, he noticed; not just that, but Mulder sensed an actual attraction to Skinner, increasing as each moment passed between them. But Mulder didn't want to leave. Now that he was there with Skinner, he wanted to stay.

Mulder turned to face Skinner, looking at him earnestly. "Let me help you," he repeated, unconsciously placing a hand on Skinner's knee, not thinking about the implications. Not at first.

Skinner took in a quick breath, and Mulder noticed Skinner's eyes dilate as their gazes locked. Mulder looked up at him again, wondering what Skinner might reveal, concentrating on getting his own heart rate back down to normal after his own unexpected action. And after his own unexpected thoughts.

This is really getting weird, Mulder observed.

Still, he remained silent and frozen to the spot, watching in wonder and strange anticipation as the atmosphere between the two men changed.

Finally, Skinner took the lead and broke the silence.

"Mulder, I told you I wanted to talk to you about something privately, too. I need to explain something about what happened between Sharon and me," he began. "It wasn't just what I assume you've already heard. It wasn't only caused by my not leaving the stress of this job behind at the office, and it wasn't just about my not being able to open up about what was going on with me. Not really." He paused. "Actually, the 'other woman' gossip is closer to the truth."

Mulder looked at Skinner, perplexed by Skinner's statement, and bewildered by how he was feeling as the night took its unexpected turns. He struggled to keep his mind focused on what Skinner was trying to explain.

"The truth is that, near the end of my marriage, I had begun to wonder about how honestly I had lived my life up until then. I had always had a sense that something important was missing from my life, and that I had been denying this need for a very long time. I think that Sharon sensed this need in her own way."

What the Hell is this, Mulder thought as he shifted slightly on the couch, feeling his face flush, feeling the beginnings of sexual arousal. He was now terrified that Skinner would somehow know what he was thinking. Or how he was feeling.

Mulder listened intently, trying to control his physical reactions, while Skinner went on. For the first time since Mulder had known him, Mulder noticed Skinner growing nervous, his eyes cast down and his voice shaking almost imperceptibly.

"This may surprise you," Skinner said quietly, "but I had one intense sexual relationship with another man during my tour in Vietnam. It was the only relationship I'd ever had with a man, and the only one I've ever had. It affected me deeply...I don't think I've ever gotten over it."

Skinner paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. Finally, he looked up at Mulder. "When I returned home, I had to put that life behind me. At the time, I had ascribed the experience to my being isolated from women for long periods of time, to being under the stress of combat and needing some kind of human connection....But I can't deny to myself that I had truly been in love with John."

The Assistant Director closed his eyes briefly with long-buried grief. He focused once again on the younger man in front of him. "John was killed along with the rest of my platoon that day. That was the day that I also died -- for a while." Skinner waited to let Mulder deal with everything that he was telling him.

The A.D. thought back on his life. Ever since Vietnam -- even before then, actually -- he had felt moments of attraction to other men, but had never pursued those feelings. It would be too much of a risk to his career. Then Mulder came into his life, and Skinner was no longer sure he could look the other way and deny his feelings.

Working closely with such an attractive man -- one who reminded him a great deal of John in looks and in intensity of personality, one whom he had come to admire for his commitment to personal ethics and justice in an often unethical, unjust business -- had become increasingly difficult for Skinner to handle. Especially during the breakup of his marriage, while striving to remain faithful to his wife.

Sharon had sensed that there was something more than the pressures of his job that was making her husband grow distant, and she tried to get him to discuss it with her. Skinner only became more closed off to her as the months progressed. Eventually this distance led to Sharon's request for a divorce.

What had disturbed Skinner greatly since Sharon's death was that, at certain times when he was feeling particularly lonely, he would strongly sense Sharon's presence nearby. He also had experienced several intense, realistic dreams in which Sharon seemed to be pleading with him to do something she had not been able to voice in life. Twice, he would have sworn he had seen an image of her out of the corner of his eye, as if her spirit were looking on after her death. Worrying about how he would cope without a true love in his life. Hoping he'd find happiness.

Skinner did not want to tell Mulder about these visions and feelings. He knew Mulder would focus on the paranormal nature of the events. Skinner knew that these were psychological symptoms of his own grief and guilt over Sharon's death -- and his emotional if not physical infidelity and abandonment of her in what would end up being the last years of her life. He didn't want Mulder to turn this into an X-file, but he did want Mulder to understand his distress, he knew now. He needed someone to understand. He needed Mulder to understand.

He finally managed to put words to what he was trying to say. His voice grew stronger with resolve.

"Mulder, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you ever since the first time you walked into my office," he said as honestly as he could, looking intently at Mulder to gauge his reaction.

Mulder smiled slightly. He was nervous, but he couldn't help but feel pleased by what Skinner had just admitted.

"Sir, to be honest, I think I've felt the same way about you. Maybe for a long time," Mulder replied. "I've just been realizing it tonight, as you've been telling me this." The look of apprehension Skinner had maintained throughout his confession quickly softened at Mulder's words. At Mulder's acceptance. At Mulder's shared confession of his feelings.

Skinner slowly leaned toward Mulder and reached out his hand, which he used to lightly touch the line of Mulder's jaw. Bringing his own face closer, Skinner gently placed his lips on Mulder's.

Mulder did not resist the unplanned advance; in fact, he welcomed it, leaning in to the kiss and reaching out to place one arm lightly on Skinner's shoulder. Using his tongue to part the other man's inviting lips.

A minute later, just as suddenly as they had begun, they broke apart and settled back into the couch, looking at each other briefly, nervously. Then both looked down at the space of cushion between them.

Neither knew what to say; both sensed that an irrevocable decision was about to be made. Both felt a heightened awareness of themselves, more alive than either had felt in a long time.

Mulder's thoughts flashed to an image of himself running out the door; just to go somewhere alone and think about what had happened. Was it the beer? It was strong, but neither Mulder nor Skinner were lightweights. Mulder had not even finished his first bottle, and Skinner did not look the least bit tipsy. No, it wasn't the beer.

Then Mulder knew what prevented him from getting up and leaving. The kiss had felt so right. It was like he had been waiting for something like this to happen for years. And now it was finally happening.

                 X X X X X X X

Chapter 3

Still in Skinner's apartment...

Mulder was tentative as he began explaining himself. He lightly traced the long, delicate fingers of his right hand along the top of the couch's back, seeming to focus intently on the task, avoiding eye contact with the man seated within arm's reach of him. Even Skinner had a hard time not watching the slow path of the fingers at work as he listened to Mulder.

"I really just realized it tonight," Mulder began, looking up briefly at Skinner, then forcing his eyes to return to their focus on his hand. "Hearing you describe what you've been through lately, and in the past...it's making me understand how I've been feeling about you. I thought that I had simply respected you...admired you...for your convictions...for who you are."

Skinner silently encouraged Mulder to go on with an almost imperceptible nod.

"I knew there was something I felt about you that was more than just respect," Mulder continued. "There have been times when I've felt...attracted to you, I know now. You're also not the first man I've had feelings for. But you're the first one I've ever allowed to kiss me like that...the first one I didn't...*couldn't* say 'no' to," he said, pausing to look up to watch Skinner's reaction.

The older man realized Mulder was waiting for a response, and gave him another nod to go on. A look of understanding.

Mulder was relieved that Skinner had not reacted with shock or disapproval, like his father would certainly have done if Bill Mulder had ever heard his son admit the feelings he was admitting now. But Skinner had expressed the same feelings; Mulder felt like it was safe to continue.

"I've probably had more than my share of passes from other guys in my life, ever since I was in college. But I never acted on them...even though there were times I really wanted to."

Skinner had almost been expecting this response from Mulder. He knew there probably had been many men before him who had found Mulder quite tempting. But it wasn't like Mulder had had a high-profile position in the F.B.I. to protect back in his college days. And Mulder had never seemed to be the type to run away from his sexuality. Afraid of relationships, perhaps. Sexually repressed, no. "Why didn't you ever act on them?" he asked quietly.

Mulder looked directly into Skinner's eyes. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if my father had ever found out," he said, a tone of regret entering his voice at the memory of his stress-filled youth. "There was always the chance that he'd get word of it if I even hinted that I was bisexual."

"How could he have found out?" Skinner asked, honestly perplexed, yet pleased that Mulder was being so honest with him about this. "You went to college in England; that's not exactly the University Next Door."

Oxford was not only far from Martha's Vineyard in miles, Skinner knew, it was also a vastly different culture with a significantly different tolerance level towards homosexual activity. Skinner had heard of how commonplace such relationships were reputed to be in the British educational system. There was probably no more homosexual activity there than in any other country, he supposed. However, after years of attending single-sex boarding schools, the cream of the crop -- like those students who went on to Oxford --were often accustomed to looking the other way. No one would have paid any attention if Mulder had pursued any of the offers he had received.

"He had a close friend who was one of my lecturers at Oxford," Mulder answered. "My father was always checking up on me...even though I never gave him any reason to think I'd screw up in school. Dad had asked him to let him know if I ever had any problems with my studies, if I ever started goofing off...I'm sure Dr. Wilcox's hearing of an affair with another man would have qualified as a reason to pick up the phone and place a call to the States."

Skinner truly empathized with the conflict Mulder had experienced as a young man. He put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Fox, I'm sorry your father didn't trust you. I'm sure you deserved better than that."

At first Mulder didn't respond to the reassurance, but he did welcome it. No one had ever shown that they gave a damn about how poor his relationship had always been with his father; not even his own mother. Now, for once in his life, he felt bathed in the expressed concern of another human being.

Compelled by this unaccustomed emotion, Mulder placed his left hand on top of the one Skinner had laid on his shoulder, gently entwining their fingers and tipping his head to brush his cheek lightly against them. He lifted their joined hands off his shoulder and brought them to his soft lips, kissing them appreciatively, not letting his gaze slip from its focus on Skinner's face.

"I'm nearly 35 years old, Walter," he said at last. "My father's dead. It's about time I stopped living in his shadow. I don't want to be afraid of him...or what he might think of me...any more."

Skinner felt Mulder's hand squeeze his tightly as the younger man pulled him closer, his right hand coming off of its resting place on the back of the couch to grasp the back of Skinner's neck. Mulder met no resistance to his actions, and Skinner gladly moved in to find their second kiss.

The moment their lips touched, both became energized in their release. With the force of the kiss alone, Skinner pushed Mulder back against the plush armrest of the leather couch, quickly moving his knees to straddle the slim hips. He grasped the front of Mulder's T-shirt with one hand, roughly balling the material in his moistening palm, feeling the rough texture of Mulder's chest hair underneath the soft cotton of the shirt.

Mulder showed equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Skinner's broad back and forcing his tongue into Skinner's inviting mouth, exploring its recesses and soon finding a playmate for his tongue in Skinner's own. Both men seemed to instinctively know each time they had to part to take in greedy gasps of air, as they quickly found their passion required far more oxygen than they could possibly take in with lips locked. They both took every moment apart to steal glances at the other's face, both enjoying the delighted expression they encountered there.

Skinner soon found himself nuzzling at the crook of Mulder's neck, breathing in the pleasant, musky scent of Mulder's cologne and entertaining himself with the feel of Mulder's light stubble against his own cheek.

Mulder thought back to earlier in the evening, when he had been dressing and had briefly imagined Skinner doing to him exactly what he was doing now. "Sir, this is better than I ever thought..." he began to describe to the man atop him.

"Walt", Skinner murmured into Mulder's neck, barely pausing in his explorations to voice the name.

"What?" Mulder squeaked, as Skinner found a particularly sensitive spot.

"Call me Walt...Foxy."

Mulder moaned. He had never been called that before --not by another man. He liked it. It was a far cry from "Spooky".

Mulder couldn't help but allow a chuckle to escape his lips each time Skinner hit a ticklish area. While Skinner played in the hollow of Mulder's shoulder and neck, now and then venturing away from the delightful crevice to lick and nibble the soft flesh under Mulder's chin, as well as occasionally trailing further down Mulder's chest and stomach, his new lover busied himself with further unbuttoning Skinner's shirt.

Having run out of buttons and still finding a great deal of material between his hungry hands and his next objective -- Skinner's well-muscled chest -- Mulder let out a grunt of frustration as he roughly pawed apart the two halves of collar. As luscious as Skinner looked in the Henley shirt, Mulder now only wished that the man had stuck with his usual button-down dress attire.

Quickly exasperated with the situation, Mulder grasped the open part of the shirt more firmly and began to pull each side in opposite directions. He would get to that lovely chest one way or another, he determined.

"Wait a minute," Skinner laughed as he reached to his neck to prevent Mulder's eager fingers from literally ripping the shirt off his back. " 'Good things come to those who wait'; besides, this is my favorite shirt."

Freeing himself from Mulder's clutching hands, he straightened up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it behind him so quickly that it flew across the room and hit the far wall, dropping to the floor in a heap.

Mulder smiled and ran his hands over the soft but thick hair covering Skinner's pecs, pausing periodically to brush his thumbs over the taut nipples.

Skinner bent back down over Mulder and pulled the T-shirt free of Mulder's jeans, slowly raising it up inch by inch, enjoying the feel of Mulder's strongly-defined abs as he did so, and pausing to kiss the firm stomach as each new ripple was revealed.

Soon both men were bare-chested, skin making warm contact against skin. Once they had managed this feat, they each immediately got to work on ridding the other of their jeans. Fortunately, they had learned some patience and cooperation from their battle with the shirts, and the pants operation came off without any rending of fabric. Each found the other fully erect once free of the confining denim.

With Mulder in his boxers and Skinner in his briefs, they wordlessly moved their mutual exploration to the thick, soft carpet in front of the couch, each lying facing the other, continuing to kiss and peck playfully.

Skinner made the first move, slipping one hand between the waistband of Mulder's shorts and the smooth, firm flesh beneath. Mulder reflexively spread his legs apart as he rolled onto his back. Skinner scooted his body closer, hovering slightly over his lover, reaching slowly down past the soft pubic hair, briefly caressing the eager erection, and finally cupping Mulder's balls gently, but firmly.

"Oh, God," Mulder gasped as Skinner's adept hand lightly rolled and squeezed each testicle in turn. He shakily lifted himself up as Skinner shoved the boxers down and off, slinging them to land atop his own discarded shirt. Skinner paused in his ministrations to do the same with his own briefs.

Wanting to give back what he was getting, Mulder reached out to the newly naked man in front of him and gently stroked Skinner's erection, gradually turning the slow caress into a series of careful squeezes and pulls. He did to Skinner what he had done countless times to himself in his lonely, darkened apartment, the refuge where only the images provided by a videotape in the VCR allowed him light and company. He watched Skinner closely and could see from the older man's expression that he was appreciating his efforts as much as he, himself, was enjoying Skinner's attention.

As Mulder set a pace with his stroking of Skinner's penis, Skinner brought one hand to his own mouth, moistening his fingers and then reaching down again.

"This will feel strange at first, but, believe me, you'll like it," Skinner said, smiling, giving Mulder an idea of what to expect. "Just relax; I'm not going to hurt you or do anything you don't want." It had been a long time since Skinner had done anything like this, and he was determined to make this first experience special for Mulder.

The hand sent out a probing finger in search of Mulder's anus, finding it quickly and slowly pushing its way into the tight, soft warmth. Skinner watched Mulder's beautiful, impassioned face as it contorted in response to the unaccustomed sensations. Skinner carefully inserted a second finger between the perfectly rounded cheeks and into the snug opening.

"What do you think, Foxy?"

"Oh...yeah," was all Mulder could manage in reply.

Barely missing a beat in his milking of Skinner's engorged penis, Mulder lifted his hips again, this time with a sharp intake of breath as Skinner slowly twisted and circled his fingers deeper, locating the younger man's prostate. His mouth diving in to suck, nibble, and bite on Mulder's generous lower lip, Skinner lovingly divided his attention, rhythmically massaging the gland to the beat of Mulder's shallow, but quickening, breaths.

His right hand busy between Mulder's firm cheeks, Skinner traced his left hand along Mulder's nipples, then brought it down to help as he moved his mouth to Mulder's groin, tenderly licking and sucking Mulder's thickly hardened shaft. Mulder was amazed at the skills Skinner had acquired in the Marines; "lock and load" took on a whole new meaning to him now.

Knowing Mulder would be too preoccupied with his own impending orgasm to continue adequately with his attentiveness, Skinner brought his free hand off of Mulder's groin and took over the job of bringing himself to climax.

After what seemed like an incredibly pleasurable eternity to Mulder, during moments of which he doubted he would ever breathe normally again, his orgasm could wait no longer and, letting out a guttural cry, he exploded his warm, sticky wetness into Skinner's thirsty mouth. Skinner swallowed greedily, letting Mulder's softening shaft slip from between his lips before his own orgasm temporarily blinded him with a flash of light, shooting his own ejaculate onto Mulder's thighs and the plush carpet.

Melting into mindless warmth, Mulder let his head fall back in exhaustion as Skinner nestled his smooth pate and bristly chin among the coarse curls of Mulder's lower abdomen, gratefully encircling his arms around Mulder's waist and hips.

It was then, in the hazy afterglow of their orgasms, that Mulder registered the low sound of the oldies station still playing on the radio. The music had blended into the background for both of them during the course of the evening's events, but now first Mulder, and then Skinner, were reminded of their accompaniment.

After a long string of songs from the '50s and '60s, the Donovan song was back in the rotation and being played again. The familiar tune continued, and Mulder and Skinner raised up on their elbows, simultaneously looking toward the stereo that emitted the radio signal:

     "I'll send you all my dreams  
     every day in a letter  
     sealed with a kiss..."

They looked back at each other, grins spreading across both their faces as they recognized the song.

"Well, I guess that's 'our song'," Skinner said from behind his wide smile, eyes dancing with tired delight at what they had just done, and at the prospect of what they would do later.

Mulder nodded, breathing heavily, still recovering from the wonderful ordeal Skinner had just put him through.

"I'm just glad it wasn't 'Jumping Jack Flash,' " Mulder gasped wearily, his usual dry tone showing through the exhaustion in his voice.

Both men burst out in laughter, barely capable of anything more than breathless chuckles, and fell back to the floor to rest comfortably in each other's arms.

                  X X X X X X X

Saturday morning  
September 21, 1996 (the next day)  
a busy street in Georgetown, VA

"Okay, I'm going in!"

"Fox, you're acting like this is some kind of military operation. You're just going in to a store. Don't be so melodramatic."

" 'Just going in to a store', you say? In case you haven't noticed, this store is called 'The Bottom's Delight'. Look at the window display, Walt! The mannequins are wearing leather masks and leashes and...and...it's not exactly Thrifty Drug and Discount. What if someone recognizes me?"

Skinner sat patiently behind the wheel of the car, wishing Mulder would just get on with it. He didn't like running this errand, either. But it was a job that had to be done. Now.

He decided to take another tack. After all, they were doing this mainly for Mulder's benefit. He knew that this particular product was much better than any substitute they could buy at a typical drug store. Around this town, anyhow. They both wanted the best for their first time together.

"If you really don't want to buy it, we can always go home and do without," Skinner suggested with a devilish gleam.

Mulder paused a moment, contemplating this option. It was not an option.

"Okay; I'll go," he said resignedly and left the car, shutting the door behind him after looking furtively to either side, hoping he wouldn't see anyone he knew. Skinner had said he would have gone in himself but, as an Assistant Director of the F.B.I., he was much more recognizable than Mulder.

"I wish I had done this by mail order," Mulder muttered to himself as he headed for the shop door. He was quite familiar with purchasing adult materials through mail order, and had seen many advertisements for the sought-for product in his magazines. But mail order delivery could take weeks, and they hadn't had weeks to plan this.

Five minutes later, Mulder ran out of the store clutching a brown paper bag to his chest. He was shocked to find Skinner and the car gone. He desperately looked around, finally seeing the Ford turning the corner and heading toward him. He ran to the car as Skinner pulled it near the curb and climbed in before it had come to a complete stop.

"Where the hell were you?" Mulder nearly yelled, slamming the door shut. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I was double parked, Fox. You wouldn't want me to get a ticket while lurking in front of a sex shop, waiting for one of my agents to come out carrying a bottle of Astroglide, now, would you?" Skinner smiled as he said this, hoping to relax Mulder a little. Skinner wanted Mulder nice and relaxed. "Did you get it?" he asked, glancing at the bag.

Mulder opened the top of the bag and offered Skinner a peek inside.

"Shit, Fox, do you really think we're going to need that much? What do you think I am -- some kind of sex machine?"

Skinner grinned anew. The container of Astroglide Mulder had purchased was the largest one sold -- the size and shape of a can of powdered Gatorade. It came with a pump for "easy access".

"Yes, Walt, you *are* a sex machine...hasn't anyone ever told you that?" Mulder asked, grinning at last. "I didn't want to have to do this again for a long, long time. But next time, we're going U.P.S."

As they drove back to Skinner's apartment, both men grew silent, wondering if their new purchase would outlast their passion. This weekend was special, they knew, but would things go back to normal on Monday morning? Neither was sure, and neither wanted to bring up the subject to the other.

                   X X X X X X X

Chapter 4

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

["Gethsemane" didn't happen!! Denial!! Denial!!]

Skinner's office  
Monday, June 9, 1997  
11:30 p.m.

"You wanted to see me?" Mulder asked as he entered the office.

"Fox, come sit down," Skinner said, and Mulder settled into his usual chair in front of the massive oak desk.

Skinner got right to the point. "You're leaving for the special training camp tomorrow."

Mulder nodded. He wondered why Skinner had called him up so late to talk about this, especially since they had discussed it so many times already. Why Skinner hadn't just stopped by his office to say what he had to say, whatever it was.

Mulder had stayed in the building late to finish up some urgent paperwork before leaving for the training. Skinner had gone home earlier that afternoon but, knowing Mulder would be kept busy with paperwork, had called him to tell him to stop by his office later that night -- "11:30 sharp," he had said -- because he had some "last-minute business to take care of" with Mulder. Now, in the office, Mulder was still wondering what that business could be, and why Skinner was being so mysterious about it.

Skinner got up from the desk and walked around behind Mulder's chair as his agent and lover repeated the itinerary.

"Three weeks at Quantico, and then six more weeks in London," Mulder said. He began to speak more rapidly. "It really is a great opportunity for Scully and I to participate in this. We'll be sharing much of what we've learned about field investigation while working on the X-files, Scully with her pathology experience and me with my psychological profiling. And we'll have the chance to see what other agents and detectives have been doing in their areas of expertise, as well as finding out all the newest investigative procedures..."

"And you'll be away from me for more than two months," Skinner broke in, coming up beside where Mulder was seated. Both men knew that Mulder had been rambling just to avoid discussing the more unpleasant aspects of this trip.

Mulder looked up at Skinner and reached out, taking Skinner's hand. "I'm going to miss you, Walt," he said regretfully. "I wish you could come with me, but..."

"But three's a crowd," Skinner finished for him.

Despite the excitement he savored from taking risks in exposing their secret relationship, Skinner knew that he would not be able to go with Mulder or even visit him while he and Scully were away. Stolen kisses and quick fondling in his office behind a locked door were exciting, but still relatively safe. Loving words whispered during investigative team meetings brought a thrill, but their content was easily hidden from others in the room. Following after Mulder like a lovesick schoolboy to a long, intensive professional training spanning two continents would be career suicide. Law enforcement people weren't blind *or* stupid, Skinner thought. Well, most weren't, he amended.

Skinner surprised Mulder by suddenly swinging a leg over his so that he could sit on Mulder's lap, facing forward. Skinner looked directly into Mulder's eyes and cupped Mulder's chin in one of his large hands. "I wish I could spend this time with you, too," he said quietly.

Mulder reached his arms around Skinner's back and drew him into a gentle kiss. So much had changed for him since becoming involved with Walter months earlier; Mulder had no idea how he was going to function without his lover for the weeks they would be apart.

Skinner finally broke off the kiss, holding Mulder's face between his hands and looking intently at him. A mischievous smile erupted on Skinner's face. "Well, I *do* have a going away surprise for you." He got up and walked behind Mulder to a cupboard in the corner of the room. "You have to stay right where you are, though, and keep your eyes closed," he demanded teasingly.

Mulder closed his eyes as ordered and immediately began perspiring, wondering anxiously what Walt might have in mind. He heard Skinner walk close behind him again. He took in a sharp breath as he felt a blindfold placed over his eyes and tied at the back.

"Walter..."

"Now, now, no questions. This is a surprise, and I'm not giving any hints." Skinner picked a gym bag off the floor and took Mulder by the hand, lightly compelling him out of the chair and leading him toward the door. Mulder sensed the direction and stopped suddenly.

"Walter...we're not going outside, are we?"

"I said, *no hints*."

"But...but what if someone sees us? My God, Walter, what would someone think?"

"Oh, Fox, it's late. There's hardly anyone in the building."

" 'Hardly anyone'? That means *someone* might see us."

Skinner rolled his eyes, grateful that Mulder couldn't see the exasperation in his face. He had wanted Mulder to enjoy this. Mulder *was* going to enjoy this, if Skinner could just get him to loosen up a little. After all these months together, however, he knew how to loosen Mulder up. He gently pressed Mulder up against the wall. "Foxy, I want you *now*," Skinner whispered barely an inch from Mulder's ear.

Mulder smiled slightly.

Mulder had always pretended to hate the pet name, but Skinner knew, as lovers knew such things, that he secretly delighted in it.

"C'mon, Foxy-Boy, we're going in!"

"That's 'out', Walter."

"Whatever."

Skinner grabbed Mulder's tie and opened the door, glancing left and right. The coast was clear. Now to just make it to the elevator...and have it empty. No, the stairs would be a better route. No one *ever* took the stairs, the lazy bums.

They made it to the entrance to the stairwell, Skinner pulling Mulder behind him by the tie. Mulder was having a hard time not laughing out loud. He *was* enjoying this, whatever *this* was.

Then Skinner pushed him through the doorway and Mulder heard the loud "clang!" of the closing door echo down the stairwell. It was then that they both realized a potential problem.

"Walter, you're planning on taking me down the stairs with me wearing a blindfold? It's going to take us forever. Have you ever tried walking down stairs with your eyes closed?"

Skinner knew where this conversation was going, and suddenly greatly regretted not taking the elevator. "No."

"Neither have I, but I would imagine it would be pretty fucking hard."

Skinner peeked out of the small tempered glass window in the door, looking down the vacant hall to the elevator. It seemed a long, long way down the hall. This was no time for retreat, he determined. Onward, ever onward!

"Get on my back, Fox."

"What??"

"You heard me. Get on my back, and I'll carry you down." He put the gym bag down.

Mulder reached up for the blindfold. Skinner stopped his hand.

"Walt, let's just forget this. It's a cute idea, whatever it is, but I don't want to be found dead at the bottom of a stairwell at F.B.I. headquarters, blindfolded and with my legs wrapped around my boss. That's even more embarrassing than what Bruckman said."

Skinner couldn't remember who Bruckman was, and opened his mouth to ask Mulder to clarify his statement, but decided it could wait. This operation was not going off as planned.

"Mulder, as your supervisor, I order you to hop up on my back." Mulder always liked it when he pulled rank in their love games, anyway; why not use that to his advantage now, Skinner thought.

With a sigh, Mulder managed to get on Skinner's back without both of them toppling over. He felt ridiculous, but he was also having fun. It was exciting to risk being caught like this, despite his complaints.

Skinner felt the same way. At first, their secret relationship had caused him a great deal of worry. As the months went on, however, Skinner had learned there was something very erotic about risking exposure. He was certainly proving that now. He already had a hard-on, and could feel Mulder's growing erection pressing into his spine; Mulder's hot breath on the back of his neck.

With Mulder perched on his back, Skinner carefully reached down to pick up the bag again. He was beginning to feel like a pack animal. The bag banged heavily against one of Mulder's legs.

Mulder heard a slosh and a "clink".

"Ow!" Mulder cried out. "What are you carrying, Walt? Some kind of bag? It feels like you have a big rock in there."

"It's none of your business. Yet."

"Okay, Secretariat, I'll let you keep your mystery for now," Mulder replied. "I hope I find something hard when we get wherever we're going...and it better not be just in your bag! Now, giddyup!" He started to chuckle softly again as he imagined how they must look.

Skinner smiled at the thought of what Mulder would find when they got to where they were going. Hard, indeed. Yes, Mulder would not be disappointed.

The odd-looking horse and his rider began slowly descending the stairs.

                X X X X X X X

Minutes later...

They reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs. With a weary grunt, Skinner put the 170-pound agent back down on his own two feet. He led his lover through a door and into a cool, open area, and then through what seemed to Mulder a maze of twists and turns and openings and closings of doors. Finally, they halted.

"We're here," Skinner announced softly, pulling Mulder closer to him. Putting the bag on the floor again, he reached for Mulder's belt and unbuckled it. "Don't remove the blindfold yet. I'll do it for you later."

If Mulder's curiosity was piqued before, it was running wild now. Where the hell were they? He had become quite disoriented in the stairwell, and even more so in the maze Skinner had led him through. For all he knew, they could be in the middle of the commissary, the gamut of F.B.I. agents, staff and administrators lurking and ready to pop out and yell "surprise".

Mulder trusted Skinner to look out for them; still, not questioning his lover's actions and motives incessantly had been difficult at first. But he didn't want to spoil whatever Skinner had planned for them. "Is this a going away party?" he asked apprehensively.

"Why, yes, I suppose we could call it that," Skinner replied as he began to slowly unclothe Mulder. He was relishing the process.

As each item was removed, there was a pause and Mulder could hear a rustling and sense movement in front of him, followed by the "plop" of shoes or the soft whisper of cloth meeting the floor. He realized that Skinner was discarding each item of clothes from his own body as well, piece by piece.

Finally, Mulder stood there wearing nothing but his shorts, which were tented out in front of him. He knew this without being able to see them for himself, and wondered at what was going through Skinner's head. If it was anything like what was going through his own, he was going to be a lucky man.

He assumed that Skinner was equally bared, the thought of which made him want to plead for Skinner to take off the blindfold, or to go ahead and take it off himself. But he would wait. Good things come to those who wait, Skinner had once taught him. He knew it was true.

Mulder had noticed a strange texture to the floor under his bare feet -- it had a definitely uneven, raised surface, cool and somewhat metallic in its feel. Mulder heard Skinner unzip the bag, take something out of it, and then begin walking away from him. "Walt, where are you going?" he asked nervously.

"Don't worry; I'll be right back. Now, promise me... stay right there! I just need to get this plugged in."

Mulder was ready to explode with curiosity about what that statement might forebode, but only gulped and nodded slightly in response. He knew he was going nowhere in just his shorts. He waited patiently, rocking on the balls of his feet and humming softly.

This was getting interesting, he thought. That bag...what could be in it? From the sounds it had emitted earlier, he knew that Skinner must have brought a bottle of wine and glasses. But it was an awfully big bag to just hold that. Mulder wondered if, tonight, Skinner might want to investigate some of Mulder's more unconventional fantasies. Perhaps even ones he had never told Skinner.

Standing alone in the quiet, Mulder noticed that his heart was beating so rapidly and forcefully that he could hear his pulse echoing in his ears. Skinner had done many creative things in their lovemaking over the last few months, but Mulder predicted this would top them all.

He was starting to worry about Skinner when, suddenly, the sound of a familiar tune filled the air:

     "Though we've got to say goodbye for the summer,  
     darling, I promise you this:  
     I'll send you all my love  
     every day in a letter  
     sealed with a kiss."

As the opening line sounded, Mulder heard Skinner pad bare-footed toward him again, coming to stand behind him, resting his hands lightly on Mulder's shoulders. Skinner took a step closer, and Mulder could feel the other man's erection press against his buttocks through the thin material of his shorts as Skinner lovingly kissed the nape of his neck. Finally, Skinner reached up and untied the blindfold.

Fortunately, the light was almost nonexistent and Mulder's eyes didn't need to readjust to being uncovered. He immediately recognized where they were: in the middle of the huge lobby on the ground floor of the Hoover building. The floor was an expanse of cool white marble but, at the center, where they were standing, a replica of the Department of Justice seal was inlaid in brass, with raised lettering. This was the strange texture Mulder had puzzled over while he had stood there blindfolded.

Mulder looked over to where he knew the windows were at the front of the building. Thankfully, Skinner had set up a large folding screen blocking anyone's view in from the street. The lobby was dark and it was dark outside, but some street light came in through the windows, so any late-night passersby might have been able to see in to where they stood if not for the screen.

So that's what he's been up to tonight, Mulder thought, smiling in appreciation.

"I took care of the security cameras," Skinner explained. "They're running a loop tape from last night. I also arranged things with Gus, from building security. Being Assistant Director does have its perks. He thinks I have a woman down here, and I know Gus wouldn't poke his nose in or let anyone through those doors. Just in case anyone *is* still here." He paused, watching Mulder's head nod in relief at the precautions Skinner had taken.

"Well, what do you think of my surprise?" Skinner asked in a whisper, wrapping his arms around Mulder's waist from behind and drawing him in even closer.

"Walt, this is...this is incredible. You're insane!" he said with a grateful laugh. He turned around to face his lover and asked something to which he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it from Skinner's lips. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well, I'll tell you; after I'm done with you, your back will likely be permanently emblazoned with this seal," Skinner answered with a smirk, looking down at the emblem beneath them.

"Oh, I've always said, I'm an F.B.I. man to the very end," Mulder teased. "But before I get -- *ahem* --'em-bossed'...may I have this dance?"

Skinner gladly complied, wrapping his arms snugly around Mulder's waist, pulling them close together and letting Mulder rest his head on his shoulder.

As they began to sway and turn to the music, Skinner saw one last vision of Sharon, far over near the door that separated the hall from the lobby. He hadn't seen her, or even thought of her more than fleetingly, in months. This time, the only time in all of his visions and dreams of her, she was smiling. He slowly smiled back. She turned and walked away, her image fading as it reached the door.

The two lovers held each other through the end of "their song" and beyond. They made love in the center of the seal on the floor, sharing one last time together before having to part for the summer. But they knew it would not be their last time ever.

Mulder was quite "impressed" by Skinner's performance.

                 END

Please send constructive criticism and other feedback to . Thanks!

For those who would like to see all the lyrics of this song, here they are. Even though I don't own a recording of the song, it has been playing through my head as I've written this story. (Hopefully, it will stop now that I'm finally posting it!) I also saw a note on a guitar players' list that an alternate ending is "Heal it with a kiss"...explaining, in part, my title.

                                X X

Sealed with a Kiss -- Jason Donovan  
(Geld/Udell)

Though we've got to say goodbye for the summer,  
darling, I promise you this:  
I'll send you all my love everyday in a letter  
sealed with a kiss.

Yes, it's going to be a cold, lonely summer,  
but I'll fill the emptiness.  
I'll send you all my dreams every day in a letter  
sealed with a kiss.

I'll see you in the sunlight  
I'll hear your voice everywhere  
I'll run to tenderly hold you  
but darling, you won't be there

I don't want to say goodbye for the summer  
knowing the love we'll miss;  
oh, let us make a pledge to meet in September  
and seal it with a kiss.

Yes it's gonna be a cold, lonely summer  
but I'll fill the emptiness.  
I'll send you all my love, everyday in a letter  
sealed with a kiss.

Sealed with a kiss.  
Sealed with a kiss.

(C) 1960 Chappell Music, Ltd.

                     ##


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